


The Ladies of the House

by XVnot15



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ancient Egypt, Ancient History, F/F, Historical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 02:37:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13695129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XVnot15/pseuds/XVnot15
Summary: We're getting married in the evening, sniff, snort the incense cost a mine...  Sorry, a tale of an important day in the lives of two women set in the Late Middle Kingdom of Egypt c. 1700 BCE.





	The Ladies of the House

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a challenge.

**Title:**   **The Ladies of the House**

 

The space looked bare and strange to her now, emptied of furniture and possessions emptied even of memories it seemed, for she could not place the joys and sorrows of her twenty years of living in the house into this strange and echoing emptiness. She’d been born in this very room, learned the ways of the house from her mother at that hearth, nestled with her parents warmed by them in the cold nights of winter on the bed bench upon which she was seated, and she’d learned her first letters scratched in the dirt of the small courtyard where they’d kept a few goats and sometimes geese.

Dust motes danced in the shaft of bright sunlight pouring in from the single high window overhead, the same warm light that had shone on her early struggles wielding a reed pen over broken potsherds and her later triumph when she was deemed skilled enough to move on to the expensive and precious sheets of papyrus. In the heat of the sun a memory surfaced at last, how she had felt the sun’s warmth on her back to be the great Ra’s blessing as she transcribed the myriad images that made thought and spoken word take permanence in writing and that would unlock a favoured world of privilege for her not often accorded to women.

A greatly loved only child, her father had wanted everything for her that he would want for a son and used his position as Lector Priest of Ptah to ensure her a place in the House of Life attached to the main temple of his patron God. Her own intelligence and hard work saw seven long years of study end with the bestowal of the coveted title of Scribe and employment in the adjacent shrine of the creator God’s wife, the fierce lioness Sekhmet. It had been a good life so far, well paid and well respected and Menet daughter of Ptah-hotep was able to say her daily prayers with true and joyful gratitude.

                Looking over the empty room again, she contemplated how so much had changed since that time, six years ago;  she had prospered, found love in a most unlikely place and both her parents had passed to the fields of Osiris and been placed in their modest tomb, her father having joined his wife less than a year ago.  Menet was glad he had not lived to see the huge upheaval that occurred when the Good God, Merneferre Ay had abandoned the great city of his forebears and moved the Palace and most of the Court from Itjtawy back to the ancient capital, Mennefer. Now the city was a strange combination of a disturbed ant hill with people busily packing and moving either to follow the Great Ones to Mennefer or to move into now empty houses in the better quarters that were selling at a fraction of their worth, and in between the chaos were areas of strange stillness where people had already left, the houses and streets now eerily quiet.

“Menet! Menet where are you?”  A piping voice called from the courtyard.

“Stay there Shepset, I’m just coming.”

Picking up the finely carved crutches resting beside her on the bed, Menet heaved herself upright, settled the smooth wood under her arms and made her way slowly to the main door giving one final glance around the room before stepping out into the bright sunshine.

“There you are Menet. Mama sent me to help and to fetch you home.” 

“Yes, here I am my little Kitten, exactly where your Mama left me this morning.” Menet reached out a hand to straighten the plaited lock of hair neatly draping it over the young girl’s right shoulder, only a year or so to go and little Shepset would be losing her youth lock, yet another reminder of time slipping by. “I was only waiting to see who would miss me enough to come and fetch me and no surprise that it was my Kitten.”

Eleven year old Shepset beamed a smile at Menet and gave her a one armed hug, careful not to jostle her crutch. She loved it when Menet used the pet name she’d given her a few years ago, along with the real kitten that had come with the name. The girl looked around the courtyard and noted the medium sized wooden box beside the door to the house.

“Is that all that’s left to bring?”

“Yes, that’s the last, but the most precious. It’s not a regular box Shepset, the front panels open like doors as well as the lid going back on hinges that means you must hold it just so or the panels will fall open. It’s not heavy, but I need you to be very careful with it and watch where you walk so you don’t trip.”

Shepset knelt to inspect the box. It was a full cubit square and another cubit high with a rounded lid. She noted it was made of expensive ebony wood inlaid with hippopotamus ivory depicting images of scrolls and pens and three sets of hieroglyphs picked out in gold leaf. It was one of the most beautiful boxes she’d ever seen and though she knew it well from visiting Menet she’d never seen it closed up and sealed like it was now. Gingerly she changed her position to a squat before carefully taking the box in her arms and adjusting her hold so it was comfortable before she rose and turned to the waiting woman behind her.

“I’ve got it Menet. I’ll be very careful with your shrine I promise. I don’t want the Great Lady Sekhmet angry with me for dropping her vessel in the dirt.”

Menet gave a solemn nod of agreement.  “Not to mention Lady Seshat and Lord Djehuty. It would not do for the new Chief Scribe of the Royal Weavers to anger the Gods of writing in the first month of her new position.”  The solemn look broke into a genuine smile when she continued. “Just watch where you walk and I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

They set out, their pace deliberately slow, not just for Shepset to watch her step, but to allow Menet to favour her aching foot and for them both to manoeuvre around the bustling populace once they entered the upper levels of the artisans and nobles quarters. Nearly an hour later they entered the outer reception court of one of the larger estates along the street of the Weavers to be met by the somewhat agitated Lady of the House.

Khat-Sekhmet Nehsit, Chief of Royal Weavers and Steward of Sekhmet’s Flocks, moved forward to greet her wayward loved ones. Taller than Menet by more than half a head and senior to her by 15 years, the noblewoman was strikingly beautiful and exuded a commanding but welcoming presence. Eschewing a wig she wore her well-oiled, springy tight curled black hair in myriad short strands falling in layers to frame her face and enhancing the beautiful features of her forehead and wide cheekbones. Her skin, several shades darker than Menet’s standard Egyptian light brown, and her hair, were proud reminders of her Nubian warrior great grandfather, who had been first captured in battle and then served three kings in succession before being rewarded for his loyalty with land and servants and also her royal Nubian grandmother a prize of war taken by her grandfather in later campaigns.

“There you are at last, I was starting to worry and thinking of sending Senefru and Uah to find you both.” Noting what her daughter was carrying she instructed her to place the shrine on the small table she’d set beside their own household shrine in the main reception room. As an afterthought she added further instructions to Shepset’s retreating form. “Then tell your brothers and the children it’s past time for the afternoon sleep. You may use the sleep mats on the roof but I don’t want to hear a peep for at least two hours.”

“You look tired Meryt.” Khat-Sekhmet moved over to the younger woman guiding her further into the house and through into a quiet inner courtyard lush with plants and bushes offering welcome shade from the mid afternoon sun.  Beside the small ornamental pool was a low set, wide couch covered in a fine linen sheet and a scattering of cushions. Next to the couch was a table set with a jug, two cups, and a basin of water, folded linen and a small vial of oil.

“Come and rest. Let me take care of your foot Meryt. You’ve been walking too much this month and your foot is swollen past anything like I’ve ever seen it before.” She raised a placating hand to hold off the often heard reasons. “I know, I know it was necessary and you’ve done very well stamping your mark on your new office, but that’s done now and you’re finally settled here, so it is time to rest and let your servants do the walking.” 

The younger woman breathed a sigh of relief as she settled back against the cushions but grimaced in pain when she raised her odd shaped left foot to the couch, it was indeed swollen to almost twice its usual size.  Menet had been born with a clubbed foot, and where others might have given such a deformed infant to the mercy of Sobek, she was the first live birth her mother had managed after six pregnancies and her parents chose to keep their precious longed for baby. It turned out they had chosen wisely because her mother never fell pregnant again.  

Despite the limitations her foot had placed on her mobility she had a happy childhood, her sunny nature allowing her to make friends of the other neighbourhood children and then largely sedentary nature of her studies and later profession had proven ideal. Normally her foot rarely caused her discomfort, but having to tour and inspect the dozens of houses and workshops that housed the group of Royal Weavers had taxed her endurance.

Menet sighed again, this time in appreciation at the feel of cool wet linen on first one foot and then the other as Khat-Sekhmet wiped away the dust of the streets. Placing the swollen foot gently in her lap atop a pad of clean linen, she warmed some of the sandalwood scented oil in her hands before beginning to massage from toes to ankle, the soothing strokes releasing the tension from the younger woman’s limbs until her head lolled back into the cushions and she nearly mewled with contentment.

“I think it’s you that we should call Kitten, Meryt and not Shepset. I swear you actually purr when I massage your foot. I think if you could you would have me do this the whole day through.”

Menet’s cheeks darkened when she blushed and ducked her head, always a little embarrassed when her lover tended to her this way, the noblewoman unselfconsciously taking on the role of a body servant, her gentle teasing added just a little to the younger woman’s embarrassment.

“I much prefer _Meryt_ , because it is my greatest joy to be your _Beloved_.” Menet reached down and took a hand, slippery with oil, and brought it to her lips. Kissing the broad back of the hand she held she finished her thoughts. “Just as you will always be _Neferti_ , my _Beautiful One_.”

“Hmm, just so Meryt, just so.” Khat-Sekhmet moved the foot from her lap to the couch and dried her hands with the pad of linen before she crawled up beside her beloved and rested her head on Menet’s shoulder.  “I am so glad you’re home Meryt. We should try and rest a little before the evening’s celebration.” 

Menet merely hummed in drowsy agreement, squirming a little to get comfortable before her arm tightened around the other woman’s shoulder pulling her closer into her side. Sleep captured both women within minutes, the heat of the sun felt in gentle warmth under the canopy of leafy palms.

****

Later that evening, the main hall of the house was filled with more than 30 people, talking, eating, drinking and enjoying the generous hospitality of the Lady Khat-Sekhmet Nehsit and the Chief Scribe Menet while a trio of musicians played softly in the background. They were there to celebrate and witness to the unusual, but not unheard of, joining of the two women’s households and their lives. Most of those present, friends and family members certainly, were well aware that the two had been together as lovers for nearly four years now, but tonight would mark their union more officially and bind them as just as married as any man and woman who set up their household together.

The two women at the centre of the celebration sat on the raised dining step between the four evenly spaced columns that supported the high ceiling above them.  Around them, on low stools and cushions their family reclined and listened to the evening’s second rendition of how they had met and fallen in love with each other all those years ago. It was a tale they all knew well by this time, but which they indulgently endured yet again out of affection for the two women who they loved and who loved them all in return.

When the first hour of night arrived and Ra’s barque was meeting the horizon to start His perilous journey through the underworld, the gathering was brought to order and silence engulfed the lamp lit room. A tall, heavy-set man sporting the shaved head and leopard skin of a high ranking priest rose from his chair of honour and asked for a path to be cleared from the dining step to the shrines in the far corner of the room.  Ptahmesses, Lector Priest of Ptah was honoured to offer his blessing to the daughter of his old teacher and mentor not to mention pleased to do this for his friend and old school mate Menet herself.

It took a few minutes for all those involved to take their places but eventually everyone was in position in front of the two shrines, both now opened and the statuettes of their multiple deities visible for all to honour. Each household was arranged in front of their respective shrine indicating their former separateness in two different households.

To the left in front of the shrine dedicated to, Lady Seshat and Lord Djehuty the titular Gods of scribes everywhere and her personal patron deity Lady Sekhmet, stood Menet and the two young girls, Sat-Senefru and Nakhtet her adopted daughters. These were the children of a neighbour who had died giving birth to Nakhtet and whose father had then abandoned them shortly afterward, fleeing Itjtawy to who knew where. Menet had, with her father’s blessing, taken the three year old and new born infant into their home and very much into her heart as well.

To the right in front of the shrine dedicated to the Lady Iset, Lord Ptah, Lady Hathor as well as her patron and namesake Goddess, Lady Sekhmet, stood Khat-Sekhmet with her four children; her eldest daughter Nodjmet, pregnant with her own first child, her twin sons Senefru and Uah and her youngest daughter Shepset. Nodjmet also held a little girl of two whose name was Neferura. The baby had been left at Sekhmet’s shrine where her foreign appearance, huge green eyes and pale skin with little brown splotches had deterred anyone offering to take her in until Khat-Sekhmet had reported for her month of temple duty and fallen in love with the exotic little creature. She guessed she was the offspring of one of the growing number of Asiatic merchants that had started to ply their wares in Itjtawy in recent years.

Once assembled Ptahmesses invoked the blessing of the Creator of all, Lord Ptah and set light to several grains of expensive myrrh in a small bronze censor shaped like an outstretched hand, the sweet smelling incense hung in the air long after the wisps of smoke had disappeared. Keeping the censor in hand the priest then stepped aside, his part in the ceremony now mostly over.

When the opening benediction was ended Menet stepped forward and offered a grain of incense to each of the statues in Khat-Sekhmet’s shrine promising to honour them as the welcoming deities of her new home. Kat-Sekhmet followed suit offering to each of Menet’s statuettes and welcoming the new divine protection they offered to her household. Then the eldest children carefully removed the statuettes from their shrines while the two boxes were replaced by a single, much larger shrine by the two women. Once the statuettes were settled in their new home, each member of the family dropped a grain of myrrh in the large censor in front of the array of their household Gods.  

                “The Gods bless this new union, may it be strong, loving and prosperous in this life and the next, blessings on your household Lady Kat-Sekhmet and Lady Menet.” Ptahmesses made his final pronouncement of the evening before kissing each woman on the cheek and giving his dear friend Menet a jovial hug.

The crowd around them erupted in loud good wishes and moved forward to offer congratulations to the two women and their now much larger family. The celebrations continued for several more hours with many remarking on the extravagance of the joining, noting the myrrh alone must have cost a full 3 deben weight of silver. That said, everyone agreed that the two women made a most excellent couple and didn’t doubt that with their guidance and love their family would continue to thrive.

Sometime after the fifth hour of night had slipped by, Kat-Sekhmet at last joined Menet in their bedchamber. The final guests had imbibed generously and organising the servants needed to see them safely home had taken some considerable time. Menet had left two lamps lit and waited for her in the comfort of their bed. Shedding her dress and flinging her jewels haphazardly on her dressing table Kat-Sekhmet decided her make-up could wait till morning and slid wearily in to the warm bed welcomed by the open arms of her lover. They kissed deeply, but without urgency neither having the energy for making love but neither quite ready to close their eyes on this momentous day.  Lying back against the cushions they watched the light cast from the small night lamp flicker over the far wall.

“We finally did it, we actually finally did it.” Menet turned to look beside her, a lopsided grin nearly splitting her face in two. “You’re stuck with me now Neferti. If you send me packing after this everyone will descry the waste of all that incense for nothing.”

Kaht-Sekhmet gave a mock glare at her young lover and poked her in the ribs. “Never fear cheeky monkey, I’d just deduct the cost from your wages before I pushed you out the door.” The poking finger turned into a loving caress underscoring the meaninglessness of such a threat to her beloved.  Turning on her side Kaht-Sekhmet urged Menet to do the same so they were facing each other.

“So, I’m your wife now?” Menet whispered.

“Yes.”  Kaht-Sekhmet replied a gentle smile lighting her beautiful face.

“And you’re my wife too?”

“Oh yes, Meryt I am your wife too.” She reached up and stroked a lock of soft brown hair off her love’s forehead.  Menet stayed quiet for a few moments before voicing a conundrum that had just presented itself in her mind.

“If I’m your wife, and you’re my wife, there are two First Wives in our family.”

“Hmm, you’re right; I suppose we are both First Wives.”  Kat-Sekhmet smiled at the ironic situation but didn’t notice the gleam of mischief in her new wife’s eye.

“Okay then if we are both First wife, who’s Lady of the House?” 

Menet might have had one part genuine confusion to two parts cheekiness in her question but she was delighted with Kat-Sekhmet’s reply.

“We are both the Ladies of the House neither greater than the other. We are after all dedicated to our Lady Sekhmet, so we are lionesses like Her, and like Her we care for our Pride, our family, together.”

Kaht-Sekhmet felt a renewed surge of energy and joy and rolled so she lay atop her surprised but welcoming wife, leaning up on her elbows to better see the naked beauty beneath her. Bending she caught the familiar lips below in a scorching kiss making very clear her intentions about rest had changed.

Menet matched her enthusiastically pulling Kaht-Sekhmet down till she rested her full weight along her whole body. She kissed her way up the dark column of neck till she reached her lovers ear. She licked and nibbled the lobe taking time to chuckle out a final thought before she bit down in earnest.  “Well then my lioness; let’s see if we can make each other roar.”


End file.
